Just like the rooster who harbors the delusion that he
brings in the daybreak with his crewing, a foggy understanding of one’s interactive
relationship with the ambient environs may deal a non-too-trivial blow to the
ego. Such has been the nature and extent
of my relationship with our holly-dwelling
neighbor cardinals.

When I was first made aware of their living in our luxuriant
evergreen holly, I harbored the delusion that it was the aura of our
good-naturedness as a household that made them pick our tree in particular as
their abode. It made me feel warm and fuzzily
radiant with an inner glow to think of the arrangement that way. The fact that the branches were delectably
laden with red berries all winter long ready for the picking hardly factored
into my grasp of the situation.

[dsc00597]

One breezy sunny afternoon in the first week of March the
rude awakening came. A rather huge flock
of wide tailed dark brown tree sparrows,
slightly bigger than the cardinals in size, swarmed on the tree in one fell
swoop. The scene was eerily reminiscent
of the Alfred Hitchcock 1963 horror thriller, The Birds, terrorizing the tranquility of the sleepy town of Bodega Bay.

The intruding sparrows must have sent the resident cardinals
scampering underneath the gutter to avoid being physically overwhelmed with
fatal finality. They were nowhere to be
seen in or around the tree. Putting up
even nominal territorial defense appeared to be alien to the reflexes of the
cardinals. I watched in awe as the
invading flock feasted on the berries with frenzy not in the least perturbed by
my presence at the window.

[

[dsc00502]

Almost as suddenly as they had come, if not more so, the
sparrows departed the tree in a blinking of an eye. They had left next to nothing to indicate
that they graced the holly with their visit, although unwelcome it might have
been. But there was ample evidence of
what they had taken away.

They cleaned up almost three quarters of the berries.
Other than the twigs heaving a sigh of evident relief for having the load taken
off them, the cardinals must have resented the invasion because they went missing
for a few days. They had seemingly gone
off to mourn the unceremonious violation of their domain.

They finally came back a couple of days or so ago. I cannot prove it but I’m convinced they are
the same cardinals who were there before the sparrows’ invasion. They seem to be a bit more persistent in
attempting to breach the window barrier.
They flew against the glass with a much stronger vigor and determination, i.e., more
forceful and more frequent. I decided to lower the blinds because I have been scandalized at the prospect of finding dead cardinals on the roof of the
garage.

This changed behavior had given me a clue on what they might
see beyond the window from their side of the universe. I surmise they see more berries to feed on. The reflection of the tree on the glass
window had made them entertain the prospect of another tree in the unfathomable
dark beyond.

Although it may not always work as precisely as it might
have been designed originally, Mother Nature has without any doubt, a built-in
self-compensating mechanism to modulate the vagaries of her excesses. Thus, as the outside thermometer by the
kitchen window persistently hovered barely north of the freezing mark with an
occasional excursion below zero, the frigid carpeting of winter remained
unhampered in its destiny to melt away.

The hibernation of winter grudgingly surrenders to the thaw
of ice and snow, bringing in the budding awakening of spring. With furtive jubilee the cypress clusters
point their dormant spires skyward to assert their claim to a legacy of poised
dignity.

Conceding that life is laden with the good, the bad, and the
ugly I also brace myself that the seasonal warming summons the colony of ants
of black, red and orange or whatever other hues that nature can conjure. That they would anytime soon impose their
annoying nuisance in the kitchen from sources nobody knows.

It’s reassuring to confirm that the cycle of the seasons
still holds sway. Too bad, the apostles
of Michael
Mann and his cohorts of Anthropogenic Global Warming acolytes have
disregarded such an unmistakably observable event. Myself being an ardent believer in the
inherent goodness of human nature, dare not therefore condemn me if I prefer to
join the more hopeful and cheerful cohorts of the species, especially some select poets, in celebration of
life’s awakening:

Let me clarify this point to prevent any confusion on the title: It was never my intention to effect some ameliorating on the Rites of Spring. Rather, the spirit and substance of the Rites are ameliorating to the practitioner and observer thereof.

Blinking at the Antics of Putin

When it comes to the country’s Foreign Policy, there appears to be very little confusion as to who is responsible and who should be punished. They are not necessarily the same entity. Moreover, whoever is responsible is not necessarily susceptible to punishment.

About Me

I was blessed with loving and caring parents who inculcated into my consciousness an appreciation of the notion of the good, the beautiful and the true, along with the value of hard work and the mental habit to examine the merits of any proposition that needs to be acted upon or taken as gospel.
Cf, http://parallaxadhoc.blogtownhall.com/2009/12/02/no_longer_a_church-going_christian.thtml
Born in the evacuation camp of World War II Philippines, it took the Japanese Imperial Navy almost a full year to learn of my being born, due to communications lag at that time.
The important thing is that it decided to surrender shortly thereafter on the premise of quitting, to limit the damages before the full implications of my being around was brought to bear on the situation and determine the trajectory of events.
It was a roller-coaster ride ever since: Never a dull moment. This narrative clearly proves that modesty is among my most tightly guarded virtues.
So help me God.